“Suddenly Star Wars came out while we were on hiatus, and we looked like the old Buck Rogers series, where they had cigarette smoke blowing out the back of the rocket ship.”

– Gregory Harrison

Until last weekend I hadn’t hit a golf ball in two years. After high school golf ended I quit the sport. At the time I was too frustrated with the game and decided it wasn’t fun anymore.

I’d make a mistake and it would drive me into an unfocused rage. I’d watch dozens of YouTube videos on stance and swing, and they would leave me more uncertain than I had been before. The combination of conflicting information and frustration made me pack up my clubs and seal them away for good. Or so I thought…

At the beginning of this month, I decided that I should start golfing again. The weather’s nice and I figured that playing a sport would be a great way to relax and unwind after several stressful months.

Before I dusted off my clubs and went out to hit some practice balls I made it a point not to watch any golf videos or read any golf related books. I wanted to see how bad I would initially be, and improve from there.

What happened shocked me. Almost every shot I took was fantastic. During the time I didn’t play, I’d actually improved at the game.

Of course this wasn’t some magical occurrence. I hadn’t “grown into” being a better golfer. In fact, I’d been passively improving my skills the entire time. All the weights I’d lifted had made me stronger and able to hit the ball farther. While my new found focus on maintaining a positive attitude and thinking successfully kept me from having a meltdown whenever I didn’t get exactly what I wanted.

If you want to improve at something, you’ll sometimes need to find an unconventional route to do so.

Had I decided to take a photograph everyday in the year 1843, people would have called me crazy. The technological limitations and overall expense of the project would have made my goal near impossible.

In 1993, my mission to take pictures on a daily basis would have been somewhat novel. People would have accompanied me to the one-hour photo development center at Walgreens, eager to see what I had captured.

When I walk out the door in 2013, I’m surprised if I don’t see anyone else taking pictures. Between hipsters Instagramming their lattes, bros Tweeting images of their biceps, and club skanks sending Snapchats of their boobies; the planet has become over-saturated with photographs.

Of course, to quote Joseph Stalin, “quantity has a quality all its own.” Just because everyone with a smartphone and mirror is taking pictures, doesn’t mean that their producing anything worthwhile. Although professional photographer E. J. Bellocq (warning: old time nudity) didn’t produce nearly as many images of prostitutes as Internet celebrity Tim Sharky (warning: naked Asian girls), Bellocq’s art is infinitely classier and will continue to withstand the test of time.

Fine art has become a rarity.

I know a girl who makes her living taking pictures. She’s spent thousands of dollars on equipment and spends hours searching for that single fleeting moment to capture on film. The difference between a work she produces and the pictures I’ve seen on Instagram accounts is night and day.

Instagram and Snapchat aren’t intended to be artistic tools. I doubt that half the people who use them could even articulate what a Sabattier effect is or why the rule of thirds is important. I doubt that most of them would even care to learn these things.

Photography services that are intertwined with social media aren’t about art, they’re about status. Every image on Rich Kids Of Instagram looks horrible. The cars and planes are fine, but the photos themselves aren’t anything to write home about. “Wealthy Teenager Driving A Lamborghini No. 3” will never be something that hangs in any museum. Likewise “Duck Faced Selfie” and “Macchiato With Soy” aren’t winning any Pulitzer Prizes for Photography.

The people who abuse these services only care about the reaction. The 50 “likes.” The dozens of comments from peers and online weirdos (warning: highly sexualized swearing). Photography means nothing to these people, it’s only the method in which they can boost their egos.

“Taking pictures is savoring life intensely, every hundredth of a second.”

– Marc Riboud

I thought photography would be easy. All I had to do was see something interesting and take a picture of it. By bringing my camera with me while I walked around town I was guaranteed to get a great photograph.

I anticipated seeing a grandiose event for me to immortalize on film. Maybe a woman would be giving birth in the cemetery. Perhaps a black firefighter was saving a family of white supremacists from a burning building. A homeless man was probably sitting somewhere, eating lunch with a banking official while they both talked about their children. At the very least some girl would most likely see my camera and say “take a picture of this,” before flashing me.

All I had to do was seek out these events and capture them. How hard could that be?

After over an hour of searching for that magical event to eternally persevere on film, I ended up with this:

“People assume I’m great at golf. But like everybody, I hated golf lessons when I was a kid. So, I used to hang out at the sailing club instead.”

– Andy Bernard, The Office

I’m burnt out. Between finals, making money, lifting heavy, practicing my Spanish, going out, reading books, and doing a bunch of other stuff; I haven’t had a chance to relax. Before I sat down to write this I squated until I threw up and then wrote a five page essay. Not exactly an ideal afternoon.

In order to not have a stress related nervous breakdown, I’m going to spend this month enjoying myself. But, I’m also going to make the most out of my time and improve at something. As such, I’ve decided to take one picture every day, work on my golf game, and spend more time with nature.

Expect a lot of photographs of my day-to-day activities, some stories of my horrible golfing skills, and several essays about epiphanies that I’ve had while sitting under trees.